


Never Let the Pirate Babysit Alone

by galactic-pirates (stillsearching47)



Series: War Within Verse [4]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 10:58:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7265329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillsearching47/pseuds/galactic-pirates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set about 18 months before the events of <em>He’s Behind You</em>. David and Snow want a night to themselves. Emma agrees to babysit but is called back to the sheriff’s station, leaving Hook alone with three-year-old Neal and baby Johanna.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Let the Pirate Babysit Alone

**Author's Note:**

> “The image of Hook being left to watch any kids is hilarious. Just imagine them running him ragged and he is JUST SO OUT OF HIS DEPTH. File that under scenes I didn’t realise I wanted to see, lol.” - woodelf68.
> 
> I took it as a prompt and wrote a little oneshot. It just wouldn’t leave me alone. This is set after the conclusion of 'The War Within' my post-season five fic, probably about 3 and 1/2 years afterwards.
> 
> This isn’t actually really anti-Hook, just anti-Hook being competent looking after kids. I hope it makes somebody smile.

It all started with a simple request.

David and Emma had been working at the sheriff’s station. The town had been quiet for a few days for a change, the biggest call they had received had been a case of missing laundry. It turned out Pongo had slipped his leash and gone chasing through a garden, snagging the line and dragging it away with him.

“Emma, do you have plans tonight?” David asked as they filled in the obligatory paperwork.

“Not really,” Emma replied cautiously.

“Oh good.” David looked relieved. “Listen, Snow and I haven’t had a night to ourselves in ages. Do you mind babysitting Neal and Johanna tonight?”

“No, of course not,” Emma agreed readily.

And the stage was set.

That evening, Emma and Hook turned up at the loft apartment. David let them in. Snow was dashing around the apartment, her jacket half on, holding her open handbag, clearly frazzled by going out.

“Snow, they are here,” David called quietly.

Snow turned. “Emma.” She took a deep breath. “They are both asleep, they’ve eaten, they should probably stay asleep but if they don’t there’s some milk in the fridge for Johanna. Neal likes his Thomas storybooks but don’t read him more than one. If Johanna keeps crying, then ..”

“Mom, mom, it’s ok, I’ve looked after them before,” Emma reassured her. “Just go, have a few hours peace.”

“Yes absolutely go, we’ve got this,” Hook said warmly. “After all, how hard could a three year old and a baby be to look after?”

David hid his smile beneath his palm. “Let’s go Snow, they’ll be safe with Emma.” He helped Snow put her jacket on properly and she zipped her handbag. “Now I’ve got my phone, if there are any problems then they will call,” he told her, pre-empting her next panic.

Snow took another deep breath. “Ok, we’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

“Have fun,” Emma waved and the door to the apartment shut.

Hook smiled at Emma. “What now love?”

“You stick on a movie. I’ll make some grilled cheese sandwiches,” Emma suggested.

It wasn’t quite dinnertime yet, it was only just 6pm, but she’d been working all day on nothing but a pop tart. They could always make some popcorn later, have a night in while her parents had a night out.

“Whatever you want,” Hook agreed easily.

He turned to the infernal contraption in the corner. In the past three years he had learned how to operate the device but it still made very little sense to him. It was like the phone he had, he pressed the Emma button and sometimes she answered. Well, the TV played pictures but what images it displayed were quite often hit and miss.

He pressed the on button. The TV clicked and a moment later sound roared through the apartment. Emma dashed in and grabbed the remote, lowering the volume but the damage was done. A moment later a cry rent the air, six month old Johanna had been woken by the loud noise.

“I’m sorry love,” Hook apologized sheepishly.

Emma rolled her eyes and then her phone bleeped. She looked at the number. “It’s the Sheriff’s station.”

She frowned and walked away, tapping on the phone as she headed for Johanna’s crib. Emma put the phone down for a moment while she picked up the baby. She then cradled the kid in one arm, bouncing her in an attempt to sooth, while she checked her phone with the other.

“I’ve got to go,” Emma said distractedly.

“What?” Hook blinked, he could not have heard that right.

Emma handed him the still wailing Johanna. “David’s night off, I’m on call. I have to go. Look you said yourself, how hard could a three year old and a baby be right?” She headed for the door. “I won’t be long.”

Hook looked at the baby in his arms and pasted on a panicked smile. “Yes, how hard could it be?”

The door to the apartment closed, leaving Hook alone with the two children. He patted Johanna gingerly on the back. “There stop crying now, it’s alright.”

Johanna continued to cry. Her little face screwed up, her cheeks going bright red from the exertion. Then things got worse. Hook heard footsteps and saw Neal clattering down the stairs from the mezzanine level. He was dressed in his favorite pajamas, the ones Henry had bought him with Hulk on the front.

“Uncle Killian,” Neal squealed. “Can we play pirates?”

“Not now lad,” Hook said uneasily. “It’s bed time. Back up to bed you go.”

Neal pouted, he folded his arms and stuck his bottom lip out. It quivered and he looked up at Hook through his eyelashes. Hook gulped and tried to remember what Snow had said. If they woke up then there was milk in the fridge.

Yes that was easy enough.

He strode over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle. He offered it to Johanna who for one blessed minute took it, before pushing it back at him with her tiny hands.

“Come now lass, drink up.” Hook pushed the teat of the bottle in her mouth and squeezed the bottle gently, dribbling some milk into her mouth.

Ah success.

He pulled the bottle away. Johanna spat the milk out, a great glob hit the side of his cheek and the milk started to drip down his neck, under his collar. She started crying again in earnest.

“It’s cold,” Neal pointed out helpfully.

“Well get back into bed then,” Hook snapped.

Neal looked at him with hurt eyes. He sniffed, his lip wobbled and tears started to run down his cheeks.

“Now lad don’t cry, what are you crying for?” Hook asked desperately.

He shifted the baby so he was holding her again in her one arm. He put a hand on Neal’s shoulder. Neal wrenched away and dove onto the couch, curling up into a ball and sobbing.

Frantic Hook tried to remember what else Snow had said. Something about a book? Yes, that could work. Quickly, he headed for the stairs and looked around. There were lots of books up here. How was he supposed to find the right one? Johanna continued to shriek in his ear.

Uncertain Hook just grabbed the first book he saw and headed back downstairs. This was ok, he could do this, he was a ship’s captain, they were only children.

“Alright lad I got your book,” Hook told him. He sat on the other end of the couch and looked at the title. “I wish I were a dog,” he read. He frowned. “But the picture is of a bird? You know lad I could tell you some far greater sea tales.”

He winced, the crying was going right through his head and Neal wasn’t even looking at him. This was a big disaster. “Lad, why don’t you go and get a book?” Hook suggested.

He stood up and went and put Johanna back in her crib. The milk hadn’t helped and holding her hadn’t helped. Emma had interrupted Snow before she had said what else to do but perhaps he should just let the lass cry. At least if she did it over here, it wasn’t directly in his ear. She would have to get tired and stop soon, surely?

Hook went back to Neal. “Lad, look at me,” he pleaded.

Neal took in a great snotty shuddering breath. “Can we play pirates?” he asked, his voice muffled from his face buried in the cushions.

“Whatever you want lad,” Hook agreed, just to make the crying stop.

Neal jumped back up and looked at Hook. “Maybe you aren’t a mean poo-poo-head.” he nodded. He dashed off upstairs before Hook could respond.

Hook sighed, one crisis averted. Yes he had this babysitting business down cold. It really wasn’t so tough. He glanced back over at the crib, where Johanna was still crying up a storm. Now, if only he could stop the little lass from wailing like a banshee, then he would be a real hero.

Filled with righteous determination, Hook strode back over to the crib. He picked up Johanna and held her in front of him. “Now stop that crying,” Hook demanded, using his full captain’s voice, the one that brooked no disobedience.

Johanna stopped. She stared at him. Hook smiled a crooked smile. He had done it!

The next thing Hook knew was he had a face full of slimy projectile vomit. It slid down his face. Johanna retched again and splattered his shirt and jacket with the substance. She then started to cry again.

“Ewww,” Neal exclaimed, appearing back downstairs. He was wearing the pirates hat Hook had got him for his birthday and wielding the plastic cutlass he had bought the lad for Christmas.

He was dragging his bedsheet behind him. Hook stared at him for a moment, then stared at the crying baby. He spluttered, spitting out the baby vomit. Gingerly he put the baby back in her crib, it was no good, he would have to call Swan, the child was obviously ill. However, first he needed to clean up.

Hook headed for the bathroom. Five minutes later he had managed to sponge off most of the sick. He was a pirate, he had been splattered in far worse, he could take it. He stepped back out of the bathroom and his jaw dropped.

He had only been gone for five minutes.

He had been ignoring all the sounds he heard, there was nothing he could do to stop that infernal crying. In that time Neal had found the mop bucket. He had jammed it into the sofa cushions, unfortunately it was still wet and there was a spreading stain. He had draped his bedsheet over it to simulate sails and was currently standing on the coffee table.

There had been a half-drunk mug of tea on the table, which had fallen over and smashed on the ground. He was waving the cutlass around and as Hook watched, the tip of the cutlass caught a picture frame on the wall, sending it crashing to the ground, shattering the glass.

“Arrr, arrr, me hearties,” Neal yelled.

Hook strode over and picked up the boy, throwing him over his shoulder. “You need to go to bed lad.”

“Noooo,” Neal screamed. “You said we’d play pirates.”

He kicked and squirmed and Hook changed his mind. If he took him upstairs, then Neal would just run straight back down again. Instead he turned and took him into the bathroom.

“Stay here,” Hook snarled.

He pulled the door shut with a bang. There was a lock on the door, it was a simple twist lock. It was supposed to be used from the inside but it could also be turned from the outside. Holding the handle, keeping the door shut, Hook twisted the lock.

With a sigh of relief he let go of the door. Neal shouted and pounded on the door but the lad was safe enough in there, he couldn’t say the same for the disaster zone out here. He needed to get it cleaned up. If Swan returned and the apartment was in a shambles, she’d think he couldn’t cope and they were only children. No child would defeat this pirate captain.

He pulled the mop out of the sofa cushions and looked round. Now where had this come from? There must be a cleaning cupboard. He needed a broom to sweep the broken frame and mug. There must be one in this loft somewhere. Frowning Hook looked round. It was hard to think with all that crying.

Hook strode over and looked down at the baby. Her face was completely red and mottled, she was covered in milk and sick. Gingerly he unbuttoned her little sleeper and carefully maneuvered her tiny limbs out of it, cringing the entire time. Babies were so bendy, he really didn’t want to break her.

When the outfit was off, he tossed it in the direction of the washer. She would need something else to wear but he would deal with that later. He pulled up the blanket so she didn’t get cold. He would just straighten the apartment, call Swan and then it wouldn’t be his fault.

He found the cupboard and pushed the mop back in. He grabbed the broom and swept up the mug and frame. He bundled the bedsheet into the kitchen by the washer. Yes, he had this under control. Now, he would find his phone, press the Emma button and everything would be fine.

Hook reached for his phone. He stepped back over to the crib and he felt something else wet and slimy hit his face. He reached up with his free hand and wiped his face. He looked at his hand and the brown slurry covering it. He then looked down at Johanna.

She had kicked off the blanket and pulled her nappy down. Her nappy which had evidently been full. Perhaps that was why she had been crying up a storm, he had forgotten about that possibility. She was now covered in poo, some of which she had just thrown at him, the evidence smearing her little hands and what was worse, she was still crying! The lass certainly had a set of lungs.

He stepped away and went to wash himself off in the sink. He kept a wary eye on the crib and winced when he saw a handful of poo arc out of the crib and hit the back of the sofa. The lass certainly had an arm on her too.

Hook looked at the clock. It had been less than half an hour. How had it been less than half an hour? These kids could wreck more destruction than a bar full of pirates with a barrel of rum. That was a good thought - rum.

Hands clean Hook reached for his flask, he uncapped it and took several deep swigs.

It was at that moment that the apartment door opened, Snow was framed in the entrance. She looked at Hook, drinking from his flask, at the pile of debris he hadn’t thrown away, at the poo smearing the walls, at the stained sofa and carpet. She took it all in, within a single glance.

A moment later she was at the side of the crib, reaching in and picking up her daughter, uncaring of the mess. “Oh, it’s ok, mommy’s here,” Snow cooed.

She shot Hook a death glare and stormed over to the bathroom. She turned the handle but the door was locked. She looked over at Hook, the question clear in her eyes.

“The lad’s in there,” Hook explained, pasting on a winning smile.

“David,” Snow snapped.

“Yeah,” David breathed, striding over to his wife’s side.

Using his house key, he turned the lock on the bathroom door and then pushed the door open. His jaw dropped. Left to his own devices Neal had run the bath but hadn’t turned the taps off, the water was now streaming down the side of the bath. He had emptied every bottle into it that he could find, creating the biggest mountain of bubbles in the world.

Neal beamed at his mom and dad. “I’m bubble man,” he shouted. He stuck his hands in the bubbles, grabbing a handful and throwing them towards his shocked parents.

“We were only gone half an hour,” Snow muttered in horror.

David looked at his furious, panic-stricken and shocked wife. He then shot a look at Hook. “I better call Emma.”


End file.
